


women inherit the earth

by Skyuni123



Series: hmmm i might actually write jurassic park fics now [1]
Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Apocalypse, Bisexuality, Character Death, Coda, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Fallen Kingdom, Pre-Slash, Showers, Spoilers for Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, Trauma, fuck capitalism, mmm i don't like chris pratt, this is what i think happens afterwards, you know how j world 2 ended a lil ambigiously?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: the little family claire makes after the world ends isn't much, but it's home.





	women inherit the earth

It is still hard to believe that the end of the world was caused by dinosaurs.

But then again, it wasn’t really the dinosaurs, was it?

It was avarice, wealth, power - all of those things that Dr Malcolm had warned the world against, before. 

It’s almost like he  _ knew. _

  
  


It hadn’t been the kid’s fault. The dinosaurs that had escaped into the forest that night had mostly been contained, killed, or whisked away by shady government agencies. 

No, what happened next was the issue.

 

The buyers - the ones who’d made it out of the country with their samples and their dinosaurs - had pushed things too far. They’d created  _ monstrosities _ , terrors with DNA unlike anything anyone had ever seen.

And they’d released them into the world. 

 

Whether by purpose or by accident, their world had ended. 

  
  
  


They bury Owen on a Tuesday, six months to the day since that night at the Lockwood estate. Zia wraps her arms around her waist and just holds her, even as her legs give out and she collapses onto the soft, muddied dirt below.

 

Owen had taken a bite to the thigh from a torvosaurus the previous Friday and they’d not had the antibiotics to treat him. It had been three long days of watching him pale - his skin so waxy and translucent that she felt she could almost see through him if she tried hard enough - overheat, and slur his way to a quiet end. 

She never thought something as simple as an illness could take out Owen Grady.

 

In one of his last moments of lucidity he’d gripped her hand tightly and said, “look after the kid, yeah? She doesn’t deserve this."

None of them deserve this. 

  
  


Franklin and the kid are watching the monitors when they get back into the bunker. It had been a long process, finding this place, and an even longer one trying to kit it out with computer gear, living quarters and everything else they needed.

But they had been lucky. 

 

“An indoraptor’s taken down a stego by the perimeter fence.” Franklin says, not even bothering to turn away from the monitors. “You got back in just in time.”

 

“Yeah.” Claire scrubs a hand over her face, wipes away the tears. She’s snotty, tired, wrung out. She smells like death. “Any news?”

 

“Seattle’s gone dark.” Franklin says it flatly, but she knows it hurts. Seattle’s been one of the only cities that’s managed to keep its lights on since this whole thing began. To lose it… isn’t a good sign. 

 

“Well, that’s shit.” Zia says from behind her.

 

She moves to turn, to chew Zia out for using such language in front of the kid, but finds it doesn’t matter. Maisie’s not playing any attention, anyway. She’s swinging on her chair, staring off into the middle distance.

To lose one guardian in the space of six months is horrible. 

To lose two just seems like carelessness.

 

The kid’s got to be feeling it. It’s the sort of situation that would usually require therapy, counselling, medication -  _ something.  _

That’s not an option anymore.

 

Claire kneels down, tries to get Maisie in her eye line. “Maisie? Can we talk?”

 

It takes several blinks for the girl to actually notice her. “Don’t want to.”

 

“Sweetheart, I think there’s a few things we should discuss.” She places a hand on Maisie’s arm, tries to draw her towards her. It’s apparently the wrong thing to do. 

 

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Maisie stands and stomps over towards the hallway to the living quarters. “Leave me alone! I’m fine!” She runs off in a way that suggests that she’s desperately  _ not fine. _

 

“Shit.” Claire sits back on her heels, exhaustion seeping into the concrete below. It’s too much. She was barely coping with Owen around and now? It’s too, too much. 

She can’t be a mo- a guardian to Maisie, a friend to Zia and Franklin, a leader of them all. It’s too big a responsibility. She just wants to sleep, but she knows she can’t. There isn’t time. She’s got to move. She’s got to. But she can’t make her feet move.

  
  


“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Zia does her best to drag her to her feet, but even then Claire has to pitch in a bit. She’s warm. It’s nice. Nicer than the cold floor, at least.

 

Standing is hard. She’s not been so exhausted for years, since she wore those ridiculous high heels running away from that damn t-rex. “I don’t know…”

 

“You’re a fucking mess, Dearing.” Zia stops her from stumbling over again. “We’re going to shower, and then you’re going to sleep this off.”

 

“But I’ve got to keep an eye on-”

 

“No.” In all truth, she’d forgotten that Franklin’s even in the room, so it’s a bit startling when he speaks. “I’ll watch the cameras. Zia will too. We’re adults. We can manage.”

 

“...Okay.” It’s not like she even has a choice. 

  
  


The one blessing of this bunker is that it has hot running water. Claire peels off her clothes, dumps them in a heavy, muddy mass near the entrance and steps under the hot spray with a sigh. The showers are communal, but after six months, it’s really not that weird any more. 

She leans her head against the wall, lets the warm water hit her neck and shoulders and tries to float away. 

It really doesn’t work. Everything aches, and it’s not just a physical thing either. 

 

“Want me to get your back?” Zia asks, from somewhere very far away, a hint too casually. 

 

And really, she should fight it. She’s technically - well,  _ used  _ to be - Zia’s boss and this whole thing’s a step slightly past professional boundaries.

Except, it’s the end of the world.

And also, fuck it. She’s so tired. “Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind.”

 

“I’ll say no homo if it makes you feel better, Claire.”

 

She snorts. “No need.”  It’d be untrue, anyway.

  
  


Zia’s obviously no trained masseuse, but she does work a lot with her hands. Claire can feel that precision, that training, that strength, as she digs into her shoulders with the pads of her fingertips. It’s less of a washdown and more of a massage with context, but it feels good all the same. 

 

Claire grunts as Zia digs into a particularly tense spot and knocks her nose into the wall by accident. “I- ow- can’t believe that we were trying to save these damn things a year ago.”

 

“You know as well as I do that it’s not the dinos who caused this.” Zia says, placidly, and keeps going.

 

“Yes, but it’s still weird!” The water pummels her scalp so heavily that it feels like it’s trying to pummel out all of her thoughts. “You and I had actual jobs, Franklin was a computer programmer, and Owen was-”

 

_ -just trying to build his cabin’ _ is what she’s trying to say, but she can’t force the words out past a sob.

 

Surely she should be all cried out by now?

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Zia soothes, and works her way back up her spine, fingers digging in pleasantly. “I know you cared for him a lot, Claire.”

 

“I don’t even know what I thought about him!” She hiccups, and nearly inhales some water on her next breath. “He was an ass, and full of himself, but he cared  _ so much  _ about Blue and the dinosaurs and Maisie and I just-”

 

It feels like a weakness. 

 

“You’re allowed to feel loss, Claire. You don’t have to lead us around all the time. We’re all just trying to survive, and Frank and I can help you with that. We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?”

 

And maybe Zia’s hands in her hair are something that’s a bit more than platonic, and maybe this whole thing is crossing a ton of boundaries, but right now, she doesn’t want to be alone. 

It’s survival. It's living. 

  
  


Claire sleeps for twelve hours without dreaming and wakes feeling weirdly refreshed. The grief is still there, a heavy haze hanging in the depths of her bones, but she can think through it. She’s not going to forget Owen - is never going to forget Owen - but she can make this leader thing work too.

It’s never been said that Claire Dearing is one to back down from a challenge.

 

Breakfast is a comforting and fruity oatmeal porridge, made from the best that dried food can provide, and it shakes some of the heaviness out of her limbs. They’re here. They’ve mostly survived. They can make this work. 

 

The chat at the table is reserved, quiet. Maisie picks at her food, unwilling to meet any of their eyes, Franklin is fidgety, and they all freeze up when a loud roar of a dinosaur shakes the bunker from above.

But those are things they can work on. 

 

For now, they’re here.

They’ve survived. 

 

Owen would want them to push on, and they  _ will _ push on. 

 

Underneath the table, Zia squeezes her hand and runs her thumb over her knuckles. She raises her glass. “Should we toast? To us? For living?”

 

Maybe it’s a little in bad taste, but Claire picks up her glass as well. 

 

There aren’t many victories in the world these days, and it’s important to celebrate the moments they have. 

They’re still here, they’re together, and they’re still fighting.

It’s got to be enough.

 

“To us.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


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